Focus of the Sun
by LStarrunner
Summary: Repaired & released, Sunstreaker obsesses over the one who saved his plating in that last battle. The mech has been in stasis since, needing complete rebuild. Survivor's guilt or crush, the result is the same: new ground for Sunny. PG13.G1.Slash-implied.
1. What Moves the Sun

Title: _What Moves the Sun_

Universe: loosely G1 cartoon. Since the sequel to _Approaching the Origin_ is taking much longer to write than I anticipated, I offer this for insight into _Focus of the Sun_. This occurs about a week before that scene.

Rating: PG-13 for language and implications.

Pairing: Looking toward a new one for Sunstreaker, but presently implying Bluestreak/Sideswipe and Bluestreak/Sideswipe/Sunstreaker.

Author's Notes: In dreams, past, present, and fantasy mingle freely and become indistinguishable. Sunstreaker processes his reactions to the mech whose form was destroyed in saving him. Except for inclusion of one of my OCs, it would have been an entry for _The Mile High Club_ challenge (March 2008 at Mecha Erotica); Rusty Chevy provided another round of awesome beta and encouragement. As always, corporations own the widely-known characters. 2600 words.

* * *

Sunstreaker was dreaming about jet judo. Holding onto Thundercracker for dear life in the damp night air, he pounded with gusto on the Eagle's fuselage. "How do you like that?" he yelled, letting out another whoop as Thundercracker went into a barrel-roll. "Oh yeah ya slagger keep it _up_!"

A mote of shadow in the darkness teased his optic and he turned to look. It was gone. _What happened to my night vision?_ he thought. Clouds obscured the starlight. He went back to beating Thundercracker, feeling the jet's canopy crack beneath his blows.

"Starscream can't help you!" he taunted. Condensation formed on both their skins, beading up and running. He felt more than heard another powerful set of engines coming up behind him and instinctively hunkered down over the Seeker carrying him. Just in time, it seemed: where his head had been a moment before, another fighter jet roared past, centimeters above him as he held on to the struggling Thundercracker. It was not an F-15, not the same air-frame as Thundercracker, not one of his brothers. Sunstreaker did not know what to make of it. He could hear radio transmissions between his current victim and assumedly that other, but they were encrypted and he had no processor time to spare for code-cracking as he fought for purchase on the water-slicked plating.

Thundercracker climbed as steeply as he could, and as steadily. The other jet was coming back for another pass, almost completely straight down. Bullet-like, he was headed for Thundercracker, either to crash into him or to peel Sunstreaker from him.

Sunstreaker realized he was falling; the water must have made him lose his grip. No paraglider, no jet-pack, and he'd been wrestling Thundercracker over the ocean. He remembered that detail somehow, oily glistening black water far below them. _I'm for the smelter this time,_ he concluded, not hearing his brother's jet-pack approach.

He fell for what seemed like forever, a frustratingly long time. _How the frag did we get that high?_ passed his processor, nearly impatient to find out what would happen to him. He'd been told that hitting the surface of the water could be as damaging as a fall to the hard ground from a height. He wasn't sure he believed it, but he was certain he didn't want to find out first-hand. Then he collided with another Seeker.

_Ahh!_ he thought with relief and anticipation, _Round Two's on!_ He moved to grasp the leading edge of each wing to get leverage. His fierce glee turned to confusion as the jet spoke to him, contrary to his train of thought.

"I have you, Sir," the mech said cheerfully, completely rattling Sunstreaker, mentally in addition to the physical impact.

_Who'd "sir" me?_ he wondered. He drew back a fist to strike, but something in the other's demeanor prevented him.

"Do I know you?" he asked guardedly, just holding on.

"No Sir," the stranger answered, open and friendly as could be, flight unaffected by the additional weight.

"No need to fraggin' _sir_ me," he said harshly, "I just fight what they tell me to fight, anything with a 'Con badge."

Unaffected by his tone or the comment - he could see the markings on the mech's wings, Decepticon all the way - the Seeker asked, "Sunstreaker, do you like to fly?"

"What?!" he asked, incredulous as he tried to place the aircraft supporting him, scanning the standard database of Earthly vehicle forms Wheeljack had made them all download. He'd never thought about it before. Suspiciously, wondering why he felt disinclined to beat this one into scrap, Sunstreaker answered rather mildly: "Yeah, actually I do."

"I, too. Let's just fly for a while?"

It was clearly a question, even in Cybertronian, and added to Sunstreaker's confusion.

"Sure," he said, then added mostly to himself, "Why not? I should beat the slag out of you but it doesn't feel right." He realized the mech had called him by name.

"Hey," he started, leaning forward to make sure he was heard clearly as their speed increased and the air rushing past them got louder, "how do you know my name? Who are you?"

"Megatron used your name when he ordered me to help Thundercracker," the mech paused, "and I am Starrunner."

The flight pattern this Starrunner was holding didn't seem designed to dislodge him, or even make it hard for him to hold on. Sunstreaker wondered if he weren't just trying to lull him into complacency so he could drop him to his death.

"Star Runner," he tried the unaccustomed name, "right. Frag me. You're a 'Con flyin' with the Slag-Maker's crows. Why the Pit are you not at least trying to shake me?"

"I have been trying to shake them all my life," Starrunner offered. Sunstreaker felt inspired to look behind him, behind them as they flew, and sure enough, visible in the distance were the three usual Earth-side Seekers. "At least, it seems as if it has been my whole life."

"Huh."

"Lay flat if you can, Sunstreaker, you are slowing me down."

Sunstreaker felt oddly cooperative: he reasoned it was in his best interest to play along in support of losing their three pursuers even if this one was trying to deceive him. He wrapped his arms around the fuselage and lay flat atop the canopy, knees on either wing-join, carefully holding his legs clear of the flaps.

"That's better," his living transport said, and he felt their speed and angle of attack increase significantly. For the first time, Sunstreaker could enjoy the openness of the sky and the rush of air over his plating, faster than he could ever hope to roll over land.

_I could get used to this,_ he thought, then vocalized: "Funny that Skywarp-fragger hasn't teleported over here to harass me."

"He is afraid of you," Starrunner answered without hesitation, "they all are." Serious as a cracked casing, he sounded, even to Sunstreaker's jaded audios.

_Now you're just stroking my ego,_ he thought. Then, he was struck by the implication in Starrunner's statement. "But you're not afraid of me?"

Starrunner flew stiffly for a moment. Sunstreaker had spent enough time wrestling Decepticon jets to pick up certain nuances of their alt-mode body language. "I did not say that, Sunstreaker, I am more afraid of them." Then, in a small voice, as if he regretted saying it even as it left his vocalizer: "It seems like forever since I did not have to regard every action with fear and suspicion."

Sunstreaker had an urge to reassure him.

That was too much. He woke up partially, with a strangled sound of intakes.

_What the frag is wrong with me?_ He brought his optics on-line, awake.

Bluestreak was looking at him over Sideswipe's shoulder, resting half atop the red twin, on the other berth.

"Recharge, Blue," Sunstreaker ordered dourly, rolling over away from them so he didn't have to see the concerned blue optics of his brother's - lately his and his brother's - lover, so he wouldn't have to admit what he was dreaming about.

_Any 'Bot who could survive in the 'Con Pit so long alone has got to be one tough fragger,_ he thought with admiration. _My kind of mech._

-X-X-X-

Sunstreaker was plunged back into his dream-self. Still flying with that black Seeker, Star-something he couldn't remember clearly. He thought he should know the mech's name. Small hands held him, and they flew away from the Ark. _What's a Decepticon doing at the Ark?_ he thought, and, _Why are we not fighting?_

Looking up at the mech carrying him, flying in primary mode instead of jet-mode, he saw the wings were unmarked, not bearing the Decepticon badging he thought should have been there. He reached up and held onto the mech, adding the strength of his grip to the Seeker's upper arms, taking some of the strain from the hands that held him.

"What's your name again?" he asked evenly, surprised at himself for caring to know it and remember.

"It is Starrunner." Nothing notable in the voice, nothing notable in his speech or intonation, except he spoke in Cybertronian where Sunstreaker would have sworn he asked the question in the local language.

"Aren't you a Decepticretin? We should be trying to scrap each other."

"Never by choice," Starrunner answered him matter-of-factly, "and never in truth."

Sunstreaker sensed a problem coming, turned his head and saw Starscream taking aim on them. He was not concerned for himself: somehow he knew Starscream was not gunning for him this time. He tried to warn Starrunner, even though he knew it would not matter.

"Starrunner look out! Starscream's taking aim-"

There was no time for evasive maneuvers, not in root-mode, carrying Sunstreaker. Blasts from both null rays struck Starrunner squarely in the side. They started to fall.

"Star-!"

He felt anger.

He felt guilt.

He felt grief.

Never one to leak coolant, he expressed those emotions by tightening his intakes painfully, making himself strain for cooling air, able to deal with physical manifestations where the emotional confounded him.

Gentle fingers stroked the back of his hand comfortingly.

He moved to catch the fingers and they ghosted away. Sunstreaker looked for the owner of them and found him, close but not touching. Confused, he started to ask, "Star-?"

A pair of dim red lights drew nearer, optical facets reflecting some of the blue of his own eyes, mirroring his intensity. He was used to doling out as much damage as possible to aircraft wings and canopies, to red-opticked faces. He found himself wanting to do everything but that with the set that came to mantle over him.

"My Star," he breathed with certainty, possessive, and found his intakes already constricted in anticipation.

-X-X-X-

Bluestreak shook Sideswipe awake.

"Whah?" Sideswipe asked, eloquence not his strong suit even when his processors were fully functional.

"I think something's wrong with Sunstreaker he's been talking in his recharge again and woke up a little while ago do you think maybe he's having nightmares?" Bluestreak still had nightmares of his lost city, reliving things he wouldn't explain afterward, only cling to Sideswipe for a breem and thank him for pulling him out of memory. He didn't spend every recharge cycle with them, and they didn't interact every time, but lately Sunstreaker was nearly insatiable and it spilled over into Sideswipe. Bluestreak gave freely but was concerned.

Sideswipe knew the two were connected, Sunny's dreaming and his apparent increase in drive since his release from medical, not two weeks past. "Could be, Blue," he said muzzily, "but unless he says something coherent, I'm gonna leave him alone." Sideswipe wrapped an arm possessively around Bluestreak's waist and pulled the chevroned head down to his shoulder.

Sunstreaker made small indeterminate sounds and shifted uncomfortably.

"He was fragged bad in that last battle," Sideswipe commented. "Ratchet said he fought going into recharge. Has he said anything understandable?"

Bluestreak relaxed against his best friend, his chosen, his favorite. "No only something that sounds like 'star' over and over and some strangled sounds that could be anything bad good or indifferent."

"Mmmmh," Sideswipe answered, satisfied that all was well in the world, "probably dreaming about jet judo with Starscream, then. Go back to sleep, Blue."

-X-X-X-

Sunstreaker was lost. He did not know where he was. It didn't feel like Cybertron. It didn't feel like Earth or the Ark: it didn't feel like anywhere. He couldn't tell if it was Pit-dark, or too bright for his optics. _What happened to my night vision?_

"Sides!" he summoned his brother, but received no answer. His systems were cycling too fast to allow him to turn inward to find his twin by his spark.

"Blue?" he queried the space around him. Sideswipe had the best luck with lovers, somehow finding the most accepting and caring bots in the universe: Bluestreak would help him if he were anywhere near, just as if he were Sideswipe. No answer.

He realized he wasn't alone. A dark (darker?) shape materialized near him.

Rather than causing him to take a fighting stance, the vaguely winged shadow that approached him, calmed him. He didn't feel lost any more. "I know you."

"Yes," his friend agreed, "I will never hurt you." Starrunner paused. "Can you promise the same?"

"What the frag-" Sunstreaker blustered, "Where'd that come from?"

"You have a reputation, here, as there," he said, transforming. Sunstreaker remembered: that jet was a MiG, called a _Fulcrum_, the pivotal point, the fighter the Eagle was designed to counter and failed. "Will you fly with me, and trust me to land with you?"

That was a question to which Sunstreaker knew the right answer: "Anytime, Star Runner." He held on tight as they took to the air.

-X-X-X-

Sideswipe heard it. He had to trigger his auto-record function and listen to it a few times to be sure: his brother wasn't dreaming about jet judo, and he wasn't dreaming about the Decepticon Air Commander. Sunstreaker was dreaming about the one still in medical, the bot Swoop started rebuilding on the sly as a "training exercise". In a strangely satisfied voice, his twin clearly said, "Anytime, Starrunner." It made no sense.

He wondered if Sunstreaker had heard the rumor making its way through the Ark grapevine. Bluestreak heard it from Hound at turnover, when Hound and Trailbreaker relieved Bluestreak and Mirage. Sunstreaker had been going on comm duty at the same time so it stood to reason that over their twelve-hour shift, Hound told him, too. Bluestreak relayed to Sideswipe that the mystery mech he and Mirage stumbled on, who insisted single-mindedly that he had to speak to Jazz, must be a senior special ops agent. The theory ran that he had been in deepest cover among the Decepticon ranks left on Cybertron. Over the vorns between the Ark's departure and the present, he suffered significant damage and repair such that neither Mirage nor Jazz recognized him right away when he finally got transferred to Earth by the Decepticons. He had blown his cover after the skirmish over Nigeria by saving Grimlock when he thought no Decepticon could see, trying also to make his allegiance clear to the remaining Autobots by that gesture. Starscream obviously had noticed, and tried to kill him, resulting in his flight from the Decepticons and the injuries he suffered prior to being found on their patrol route that night. How else explain the personal welcome by the senior staff, his near-complete isolation from the rank-and-file, the remarkable silence of the mechs who did deal with him, and his behavior in Nigeria and since? He nearly died, unarmed, trying to save Sunstreaker in the middle of a firefight.

That still did not explain Sunstreaker dreaming about him.

It did explain the immediate move of Jazz into Prowl's room to open an appropriate place for him with Mirage, the second-most senior spy in their garrison. Mirage's bland disavowal of it all only lent credence to the rumor.

_Starrunner can't even be his real name,_ Sideswipe mused, _it has to have been his cover all this time._

He almost roused Bluestreak out of recharge to talk about it but something clicked into place in his processor. Sunstreaker's disturbed recharge periods, the moodiness, and the driving need for physical reassurance and distraction suddenly made perfect sense.

_Sunny always says he needs someone who can take him. Whoever this Starrunner really is, he survived a long time among 'Cons so he's gotta be tough._ He felt his systems cycling back down, mystery solved: _Sunny's got it bad for this guy._


	2. Focus of the Sun

Title: _Focus of the Sun_

Universe: loosely G1 cartoon.

Rating: PG-13 for language and implications.

Pairing: None yet. References to Blaster/Sunstreaker and Bluestreak/Sideswipe/Sunstreaker. Jazz/Prowl speculated.

Author's Notes: Sunstreaker has to deal with survivor's guilt, which has evolved into a crush on a mech who has been in stasis for a while awaiting rebuild. This was brewing for a while, and nearly ready for January 2008's First Times challenge at MechaErotica, but needed more time. Rusty Chevy (aka SpaceHappy at DeviantArt) provided invaluable beta and encouragement. As always, if you recognize it from canon, it's not mine. 2800 words. And in case it leaves you wondering, this is in my usual G1 universe but I'll let you figure out where it falls in the order - at least until the story parallel to it is finished!

* * *

_There's a first time for everything, Bro'._ Sideswipe's serious words ran through his processor, unbidden. _You're used to everybody liking you so you've never known what it is to have a crush on somebody, never had to wonder. All you've had to do is pay a little attention to anyone you found attractive and he was yours. You're spoiled._ Sunstreaker hadn't known whether to make it into a joke or take affront and pick a fight, just to have his mind on something else. It was consuming his attention, driving him to distraction. He couldn't even lose himself in his favorite video game: the generic non-player characters all morphed too easily into the object of his fascination, taunting him in the corner of his optic, gone when he looked squarely at the images. He had settled for giving his twin a caustic look, then thrown the game controller down and stalked off to the galley.

_Fragger,_ his logical self accused, halfway through his second serving of high-grade, _He doesn't know you exist. Doesn't know your name, Sunstreaker. Get a grip! He could have died because of you, you piece of slag! He's not going to want a thing to do with you. Primus! What would you offer him, anyway, outside of a trip to the plate? He would've done the same for any Autobot. He doesn't know you, doesn't think you special, doesn't think of you at all._ He took a long draw on his energon, watching the Ark common room from a corner. Whenever anyone glanced in his direction, he scowled, trying to tell them to stay away with just his look. He had taken in enough high-test fuel to expect a relaxing buzz in his systems; instead he was getting more agitated. _No,_ he thought in his own defense, _He should. I am special. I have the sexiest alt-mode on the planet. It even sounds good: I'm a Lamborghini Countach. The handsomest root-mode goes without saying! I'm a work of art, Cybertronian OR human. He would be crazy to turn me down. Everybody thinks so. Everybody wants me! I bet I could have any mech around. Every slagging one of them. Even ... Prowl himself! If I put my processor to it. Trailbreaker, even. Mirage. Jazz wouldn't stand a chance against me - Blaster surely didn't and everyone thinks they're two rounds in a magazine._ He watched Blaster and Wheeljack put their empty containers in the recycle bin and leave, deep in conversation about some new communication booster. _Blaster... is not as good as he thinks he is..._ The only mechs left from the mid-day turnover drew his attention. _Even that worthless whining Mini-bot, Gears! Even he wouldn't be able to find anything wrong with some quality time in my berth._ He watched as Cliffjumper and Brawn coaxed the subject King of Complaint out of the galley, talking about a drive in the sun: the little slagger was lamenting the effect of sunlight on his upholstery and driving on his joints. Sunstreaker shook his head at the thought. _I'd have to tear his vocalizer out first. Then there'd be no real proof he enjoyed it._ Cliffjumper ran on ahead of Brawn and Gears; Brawn shoved Gears. Sunstreaker leaned back in his seat, watching and expecting a bit of a brawl between the Minibots. Gears just complained about the rough handling and its effect on his finish. _Glitch has to shut up sometime. I could make him shut up. Just one kiss is all it would take,_ he thought smugly, and averted his optics to his cube of energon when it felt like he was caught staring.

"What's your problem?" Gears demanded.

"You." Sunstreaker answered automatically, glaring.

"C'mon Gears, let's go!" Cliffjumper exhorted him from the exit. Brawn shoved him again. Gears' attention returned to the rough-housing of the other Minibots and the trio left.

Sunstreaker lost himself in his high-grade for a while, wondering if the quiet in the galley compared to the quiet of stasis. _So many in stasis,_ he thought grimly, _I am lucky it isn't me. Or Sides._ He was just trying to motivate himself to get up and get another refill when Sideswipe walked in with Bluestreak.

"-out of medical today I heard Ratchet tell Prowl when I was in there earlier. He looks really good too-" the pair slid onto the bench across the table from Sunstreaker and Bluestreak kept talking, "-we were there when Swoop put the last of the plating on he really did a good job I just hope the transformation sequence works out right Wheeljack had a hand in it." He paused to watch Sideswipe pick up Sunstreaker's empty cube, giving his twin a pointed look to indicate he knew the residue was not the sustenance grade. Bluestreak caught Sunstreaker's optics and dimmed his knowingly. He had the courtesy to lower the volume of his vocalizer in case others came in. "Oh you've been thinking about him again haven't you? The wait is nearly over I think after they power his systems and check him out Swoop will bring him here to fuel up and socialize and test his gyros and motivity by walking and talking. You know Prowl said he asked about you when they last communicated with him so I think you won't have to even be very nice to him to get his attention you've already-"

Sunstreaker was reluctantly processing Bluestreak's rambling and cut him off, "Swoop will bring him here?" He looked sharply at Bluestreak, still processing. Then, without leaving an opening for Bluestreak to begin to answer, "He asked about me?" Energon swirled uncomfortably in his holding tank.

Sideswipe smirked. Sunstreaker gave his brother a look that should have peeled his paint. Sideswipe took the empty cube and got up to go to the dispenser. Bluestreak answered him and he returned his attention to the loquacious mech.

"Yes he did Prowl said when they brought him on-line to ask him questions he asked about you even before he registered his own condition-"

Sunstreaker felt his pumps skip a cycle and begin to run a little roughly.

Bluestreak didn't miss a beat, "-and I said you probably didn't even know he knew your name and Prowl said everybody knows your name. Do you think everybody knows your name Sunstreaker because I don't think that's really possible maybe every mech on Earth knows your name but not everybody on Earth and not everybody on Cybertron especially with us out of action for fifty thousand vorn? I'm sure even people who knew your name back then have had to purge some files by-"

Sideswipe returned with three cubes of sustenance energon, causing Bluestreak to interrupt himself. "Thanks Sides!" he said, claiming the offered container but not picking it up to drink. He resumed what he was saying. The brothers exchanged a look. "-even they've had to purge some files by now and have let you go-" he seemed to realize he was saying something that might be an insult to Sunstreaker's vanity, "-because to remember perfection and believe you'll never see it again has to be worse than forgetting you've ever seen it." He stopped and took a drink of his fuel, making eye contact with Sideswipe, who smiled a small smile for him and picked up the original train of thought.

"Blue's trying to say that he thought about you before himself and that has to be a good sign. You really should talk to him when you get a chance, at least let him know you're grateful for what he did."

Sunstreaker couldn't help himself, he had to protest that, "I didn't need him to do anything. I had those Crows right where I wanted them!"

Bluestreak laughed a little and tried to hide it by taking a sip of his energon. Sideswipe laughed openly because he knew he could get by with it and was tired of dancing around the topic with his brother. "Uh-huh. I was there, Bro' and I saw it: he saved your life two or three times, depending on whether or not you credit him with taking the last hit for both of you."

"No fraggin' way Sides. I'd have been just fine wi-"

"I was there! Remember? Or have all your processors turned to sludge thinking about him? You might not have died from just one of them, but you wouldn't have got up to fight anymore after any of the crashes he saved you from. You'd have been a stationary target then, and you know what your chances would have been. Primus, Sunny! I feel like I owe him my thanks, too, not only for saving your aft but for keeping you in the fight so I didn't have to take three Seekers by myself." Bluestreak wisely refrained from comment. Sunstreaker glared at Sideswipe; Sideswipe glared back, tired of watching Sunstreaker glower moodily. He didn't mind his brother being surly or unpleasant - Sunstreaker usually derived perverse pleasure from being both surly and unpleasant and making other 'Bots uncomfortable, pushing their buttons when he could. He minded Sunstreaker being moody, being surly and unpleasant because he was distracted by something he didn't want to talk about, unable to enjoy the things he normally did. Before Sunstreaker could come up with an argument, Sideswipe went on, vocalizing quietly but sharply, "Be straight with me: how many times did you go to talk to Prime, trying to pressure him to authorize the rebuild?"

Sunstreaker hadn't known his twin knew about that. He denied it: "What the-? No, Sides, I didn't go see Prime."

"Primus fraggit Bro'! Don't slag me. I know you did. If not Prime, then Prowl."

Bluestreak looked shocked by the thought of Sunstreaker willingly seeking out either the executive officer or the commander. "If you spoke with them you should've talked to Jazz he never gives bad advice I'd trust anything he told me and he knows all about it."

Sunstreaker leaned forward on the table, optic-to-optic with Bluestreak. "I don't think so, Blue. Jazz is a great bot but anybody who'd hold out hope for Prowl all this time can't be operating on a full charge. I mean, Prowl. What is there to draw a 'Bot like Jazz to that? No way."

Bluestreak didn't hesitate: "Wings Sunny the same thing that lets me hold your attention."

Sideswipe spoke at the same time: "There's more to Prowl than anyone but Jazz sees, Bro', trust me."

Sunstreaker chose to ignore his crazy brother: he knew Sideswipe had spent an inordinate amount of time with Jazz one week when he and Prowl were both out of commission but there was such a thing as too much information where the XO was concerned. He answered Bluestreak, hoping to steer the conversation away from his trouble and on to something fun, namely the subject of Bluestreak's doorwings. "Really, Blue? Because I think we pay attention to your wings to get you going." Bluestreak was listening; Sunstreaker glanced around to verify the area was still empty. "All it takes is one of us focused on each winglet," he went for his most sensuous tone, "or even one of us holding you and the other-" Sunstreaker turned his engine over as completion of the thought, a powerful, lusty sound, knowing Bluestreak enjoyed it. He watched Bluestreak dim his optics and was almost ready to drag the two mechs across from him back to the room he and Sideswipe shared when Sideswipe sent his CPU directly back to the subject of his obsession.

"Wings!" Sideswipe said, "That's it, isn't it? Anybody else around here and you'd be in your element: four wheels, a hood and trunk, doors to play with, headlights. Nothing special to draw your attention, you just wait and see if they take interest. But he's different enough that you're intrigued. And he saved your life so you don't know how to act. You're nervous."

"I am not fragging nervous! I am not 'intrigued' on anyone. I don't even know what in the Pit that means." He downed his remaining energon and stood up, "I just want to-" _take Blue back to our room and forget about everyone else,_ he was going to say.

Sideswipe cut him off. "Oh yeah, Bro'? Prove it. Speak his name without a hitch in your vocalizer." Sunstreaker turned immediately to his brother, taken aback at the oddity of that demand. "Really. I'll believe you when you can do that, just say his name, Sunny. Two words. Say his fraggin' name."

He opened his mouth to say it and make his pit-spawn brother shut up about it when the object of his fixation limped through the entrance. Even though the shell was completely new, Sunstreaker knew him, saw him out of the corner of his optic and turned to look, just as he had while playing the video game. His optics were drawn to the unfamiliar but recognizable form of the mech who had been in stasis since saving him, the mech who did not hesitate to put the yellow plating ahead of his own despite the fact that they had never really met before that battle. He felt like his intakes closed, his processors stopped, his fuel pump shut down. He forgot what he was supposed to say, forgot who he was supposed to say it to.

Supported by Swoop on one side, the recently rebuilt bot made optic contact with Sunstreaker from the doorway. He smiled and greeted him, sounding relieved, "Sunstreaker! It's good to see you." The medic he was leaning on guided him slowly in the direction of their table. "They told me everyone was repaired." The others exchanged greetings.

Sunstreaker didn't notice what was said. He didn't know what to do. He wished he were anywhere but there, facing the one he'd been obsessing over for weeks. _Serves you right,_ that annoying, logical part of his mind condescended, _you've put every lover you've ever taken on the spot, called them out in front of their friends, in front of your brother so you could laugh about it later whether it went well or not. Now what are you going to do?_ He forced air through his cooling system. Sideswipe chuckled. Bluestreak elbowed the red twin and offered an encouraging look that Sunstreaker registered in his peripheral vision. He whispered the mech's name and felt a great relief: his systems all started back up, maybe not running normally but running again, cooling him and fueling him and actively processing stimuli. He couldn't help but smile. He tried to sound normal. "You piece of slag! You weren't even good for spare parts, the last time I saw you. How's the new frame shaping up?" _Primus! He looks even better than I remember. And his wings..._ Sunstreaker suppressed a shudder, consciously keeping his optics on the mech's face, unable to even register Swoop or Sideswipe or Bluestreak: they didn't exist for him in that instant.

Swoop grinned and carefully guided his patient to Sunstreaker's table, stabilizing him as he awkwardly held his right hand out to Sunstreaker in greeting.

Sunstreaker returned the gesture, wondering if the mech before him remembered that or had already re-learned it, no way to know how much of his databanks had been saved. He noted the hand and forearm were proportioned as before but just a few percent larger now. "It will take some time to grow accustomed to it," the recovering bot answered him, "but Swoop and Ratchet saved my life," he lowered his head and looked shyly at the Dinobot, "and I'm grateful." Sunstreaker registered the expression that passed the new faceplates and immediately thought it must be similar to his own look.

He released his crush's hand and averted his optics to the table. His vocalizer worked, muttering some inane words of thanks, introducing his brother and their friend, and making a lame excuse to leave the galley. Sideswipe looked smug. Bluestreak looked disappointed.

Sunstreaker realized when he hit the door to his quarters that he had run away.

As he sulked, waiting for Bluestreak and Sideswipe to come down to cajole and console him, he realized what he was feeling now: _I'm jealous! He looks at that stupid Dinobot the way I want him to look at me. I am a pathetic waste of energon. And a coward! I will not compete for attention. I am so much better than-_ he couldn't allow himself to finish that thought. _Swoop carried both of us off that battlefield and did most of his rebuild. But I've never had to compete for anyone's attention before!_

His brother's words flashed through his CPU and he felt as if his spark burned a little hotter: _There's a first time for everything._


End file.
